Mean Woman Blues

his sweet face twisting and turning in panic. Bettina put a hand at the back of his head, “Go on, baby. We’ll play with your toys in a little bit.”
    The kid stuck out his lip but seemed to decide TV was his best course of action. And once he’d made up his mind, he tore off down the hall like a chubby missile.
    Skip grinned after him, as silly as any adult around a two-year-old. “Sweet baby.”
    “Ohhh, you don’t know. You don’t know what a devil that child can be.”
    Considering his suspected paternity, Skip was startled by the aptness of the phrase. The baby was light tan, a color that could easily mean a white father. “What’s his name?” she asked.
    “Jacob. You know Daddy. He liked names out of the Bible.” She meant Jacomine, of course; his whole following called him Daddy.
    Skip deliberately misunderstood. “So his father was the Reverend Jacomine?” It nearly killed her to give him the title.
    Bettina sat down, motioned Skip to do the same, and gave her visitor the full benefit of. her too-large teeth. “All children are the son of God. You know that, Sister.”
    She’d never called Skip “Sister” before, and never again would be soon enough. But it might mean they had a rapport going; Skip sure wasn’t going to ruffle it. She said, “You’re looking good, Bettina. How’s everything going?”
    The other woman, sitting on the wooden settee, rocked back and forth, turning what looked more or less like an instrument of torture into an imaginary rocking chair. She smiled again, this time barely parting her lips. Hot red-orange lipstick, walnut-colored skin, and fuchsia scrubs formed a fascinating play of color. “Doing good. Doing real good. Got me a nice, good-paying office job, working for Ochsner Home Health.” She pulled at her sleeve. “They give you a choice. You wear these or pantyhose, nothing in between. What would you pick?”
    Skip smiled back at her, as if they were neighbors passing the time of day. “I’d wear those if they looked that good on me.”
    The comment apparently made Bettina uncomfortable; evidently she was so used to using compliments to her advantage she felt attacked when one came back at her. Her smile flicked on again (though she kept the wattage down), and she said, “What brings you around, darlin’?”
    “I was wondering if you’ve heard from Daddy.” Calling him that was worse than calling him Reverend.
    Bettina surprised her by saying, “Ohhhh, Ms. Langdon, I just wish I
would
.” She seemed to have forgotten the story that had kept her out of jail.
    Skip was about to comment when suddenly the television blasted at them like an explosion. Jacob, bored and curious, must have unwittingly cranked up the volume. Great broken-hearted wails began to layer themselves on top of a booming aspirin commercial.
    Bettina was on her feet in an instant. “Goddamn motherfuckin’
shit
!” Without so much as a glance at Skip, she disappeared down the hall, screaming at her kid the whole time. “Jacob! What the
fuck
you think you’re doin’? Can’t you use the sense God gave you?” And then there were pounding sounds, a kid being systematically hit, louder and louder wails, and the television went off.
    Slowly, Bettina walked back in, for all the world as if Jacob weren’t sobbing his heart out in the background. For a second, Skip wondered if she should make sure he was all right but decided the sounds she’d heard were probably no more than a palm slapping against a disposable diaper. If Bettina didn’t treat him any worse than that, she probably wasn’t going to do him any physical harm; though she might end up raising another criminal.
    Bettina’s temper tantrum had passed like a squall in a harbor. Once again she gave Skip that too-broad smile and spoke in that saccharine voice. “Every day I pray for my Daddy’s safety, and I pray to hear his voice, and I pray to be reunited with him. In my heart of hearts, I know the good Lord’s keeping him safe, and I’m grateful for it every minute of the day.”
    “You haven’t heard from him at all?”
    “Oh, my Lord, my Lord. I only wish my savior, Jesus Christ in heaven, would send my Daddy home to me.” She sounded almost as if she were in a trance.
    Skip absolutely couldn’t believe, given her official story, that Bettina could speak this way to a police officer.
    “So you’ve forgiven him for holding you prisoner?”
    “Lawd, he didn’t mean nothin’ by that. Daddy just